


In Between

by InMoNochrome



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Angst, Fluff, Happy Endings come later, Kinda, M/M, Plot Twists, Possession, Revelations, Sad, Spectre!Verse, Spectres
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-29
Updated: 2016-07-29
Packaged: 2018-07-27 14:44:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7622689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InMoNochrome/pseuds/InMoNochrome
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bots don't always end up in the Well. The Pit really exists, but it's not what most mechs expect. A mechling struck down before his time seeks to experience the life he never knew.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Nevermore

**Author's Note:**

> Decided to separate the Spectre fics from my collection as they seems to expand when inspiration strikes :/

He waited with dark sad sockets where optics would normally be and a small smile, rarely seen around the dark recesses of his occupancy, graced his ashen face.

The white mech would return soon; he always reappeared around this time every day, he was always punctual that way.

The mirror floated casually along the dark path where he sat out of the way of the older life forms, he would normally never be able to be so close otherwise. He was left alone because they knew the white mech could not be taken over, the other’s battle computer stopped any new entity from being able to take control of him.

The young mech had learned that the hard way when he’d unwittingly tried to possess the white mech. He’d only wanted to see the world that was taken from him so young, experience the world beyond in the short time he would have had in the other mech’s frame.

Sadly he had made it into the other’s frame only to be brutally assaulted within by the other’s frame rebelling against him. In his distress he’d tried to jump back from the mechs frame and through the mirror, to the safety of the dark world he’d come to know as home.

They called them Spectres, most mecha knew nothing about them; they were the shadows in a bot’s peripheral that tended to go unnoticed. They were that feeling a bot got when it felt like somebot was watching even when alone; they were myths, just stories told to younglings to scare during the dark cycle.

In reality they were very real, ghosts to everyone but the Underworld where they resided. They were bots that offlined tragically and had been caught by the Unmaker before the Creator could reach them. Their only contact with the outside or the light world was mirrors. Specifically, any reflective surface: energon, puddles, glass, etc. From there it was possible for a Spectre to jump through and possess any mech who happened to pass by, though it only worked on weaker minded bots so Spectres had to choose carefully or experience some backlash.

It was impossible for a Spectre to remain in the frame forever though, their set time limit was approximately one day and then they would have to leave back to their dark home to recover from their light exposure before re-possessing another mech.

Portals lined the long winding road, each looking through whatever reflected into its surface so the Spectres would know whom they were diving into. The older Spectres tended to make it difficult for the younger and weaker ones to make a possession by blocking off most of the easily susceptible mechas’ portals.

So the younger, smaller Spectres tended to remain in the bowels of the Underworld out of the way of the more aggressive older of their kind. All bore expressions of sadness from their short lives and the now long death that they now lead in the cold darkness all huddled together for warmth that would never come.

All Spectres were bound in similar armor that kept them tied to the dark plane, and unable to survive the light world. Their chest armor was marred with gaping black holes where their sparks should have been much like where their optics should have been. Their cheeks were hollowed where they could take in no sustenance even though they didn’t need it anymore; altogether they appeared as lifeless ghouls that wandered the Underworld. Damage done during their deaths remained, whether it was losing a limb or being ripped in half, the scars were there and limbs remained detached.

The white mech had booted the young Spectre from his frame with little trouble as the dark mech had been trying to escape after the first wave of pain. He was surprised and frightened when he felt the other touch his wrist right before he disappeared back through the mirror.

When he’d turned back nervously to look through the portal again, he was confused and fearful as the other mech stood there on the other side staring as though he could see him. The mech began to speak and he was surprised to find that the other could see indeed see him.

Sadly the young Spectre had no voice of his own but he could still hear and did move closer to the mirror, portal when the other asked him to and when the white mech reached out to touch the mirror over where his face would be, he felt like he could cry at the gesture.

He glanced up in his curled up position, arms wrapped around his knees as he looked at the blank wall through the portal. The white mech was late, but he was sure he would show, he always did.

Even in his short life, it had not been a very good one. He was abandoned at a young age, never knowing whether he was left intentionally or not. Either way no one came looking and learning to live on the streets at such a young age was nigh impossible when you knew little to nothing about the world around you.

He had been struck by a mech in alt mode and tossed several feet before hitting the ground hard, the hit nearly ripping his small frame in half as he lay bleeding on the ground. The mecha that gathered to try and help could do nothing as a ringing sounded out in his audials and he found the world growing dark and cold.

When he next “woke,” he was standing in a dark open space, other small opticless bots staring up sadly at him as he slowly ran his shackled servo over the gash in his belly. He stared down with a fearful expression as little streams of black smoke left the gash. Two of the other bots quickly moved to pull him into their huddle, and lay down as soft sobs started up and could be heard coming from him.

The small mech smiled to himself; the white mech had said he would see him every morning and every night as the portal he sat near led to the mech’s personal washroom. He told him stories about the outside, things a youngling would be interested in and he soaked it up eagerly. Sometimes the other would even show him trinkets that even though he couldn’t touch, he would still marvel at.

The youngling fidgeted with his digits as he looked back up at the empty portal, coldness seeping in slowly as the time wore on and the white mech didn’t show when finally somebot appeared, though they weren’t the white mech and could not see him as he watched in confusion.

The bot was gathering items out of the washroom into a bag as though they owned the place and were leaving. The young Spectre watched with rising dread as a knot formed in his throat when the white mech appeared and hugged the other bot from behind and began helping the other gather his belongings.

A lone black tear slid down the youth’s cheek, soon followed by more as the white mech never glanced in his direction as his attentions were completely focused on the other bot and packing. Slowly he backed away from the portal and crept back into the bowels of the underworld to weep with his fellow lost youths of the “life” they now suffered.


	2. Shadows in the Mirror

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Re-posting from Oneshot Collections

An old book flew through the air to land heavily on the dark path, followed shortly by the small spectre still infatuated with the white mech. He’d learned after some time that there was more to the white mech that he found interesting other than the stories he’d told him.

The other had looked at him like a normal bot and even though his frame would remain small in this undying world, his mind would still grow. He clumsily picked up the large book and half dragged it to his private shadowed space to look through it without interruption.

He’d been watching through the other portals and had picked up interesting information from cultists and the superstitious. He sought the book out because of them, knowing it would be in his realm just as there was a mirrored version of it in the other plain.

He flipped through the old thing until he came to the right section. He read slowly, not ever having read before and tried his best to make out what he was seeing Simply because he had no optics didn’t mean he couldn’t see. Thankfully there appeared to be depictions of what the process he was trying to interpret was, that and having listened to it partially from the portals, which helped.

Now he only needed to find the white winged mech again, which meant finding his new portal. The spectre knew it would be a long and tedious process, but he didn’t have anything better to do. He’d stayed amongst his brethren spectres for some time after the white mech had left and merely became more depressed with every passing day.

He had to break away from them, lest he stay there forever even though he had no other place to go. He still didn’t want to spend the rest of his existence in misery. His best option was to move on and maybe actually find a host or maybe another bot that would be interested in wasting their time with him, because he knew they were wasting their time whether they noticed or not.

The spectre had taken to watching the older more experienced of his kind to try and learn a thing or two and surprisingly he’d found a few that didn’t mind him too much. Yes, they still pushed him out of the way when they didn’t feel like speaking or dealing with him but he wasn’t nearly as afraid of them as he was before. It did hurt a bit when the older spectres tossed him aside, reminding him of how it felt when the white mech, in a sense, had tossed him aside as well.

It took some time but he was finally able to make his first possession not long after leaving his tiny family of spectres, but sadly it turned out to be dark out so he still hadn’t gotten to see the light again or really even explore. The dark had reminded him too much of “home” and he had quickly gone back to his realm.

Now though, he had a chance to change his fate, if only everything went right.

\--

It had taken some time but he’d finally found the portal that led to the winged white mech and his partner. He hadn’t checked to see if the white mech could see him and didn’t plan on it as he was more worried about his plan failing and would rather the other not realize he was ever there if it happened to fail.

Instead he’d drawn his focus to the white mech’s partner. He was a different frame type from his winged mech and was slightly shorter with a lean frame. The bot was mostly white with some blue and red accents in a few places and very bright optics. He disliked this mech because he took away the winged mech from him but hopefully that would change very soon.

It took some time to set up properly to make sure he wouldn’t be interrupted in the middle of his project but he eventually figured out when other specters came through and when there were long gaps of time in between without any showing at all.

The book was in his arms as he approached the portal where he could see the other mech cleaning up for the night.

The small spectre took a deep vent with the book clutched tightly to his chest like a lifeline. Black spirits left the gaping hole in his chest and side one last time before he leapt through the portal.

\--

Optics came online and stared out at the wall in front of them. He took a moment to access what had happened and realized he was on the floor. His frame was unsteady as he stood and used the counter above him for leverage.

It wasn’t until he was properly standing did he look up and come face to face with the white mech with blue and red accents. The only striking difference was the now black optics staring back. He raised a servo unsure but found a happy sob escape his throat as he stared down at the black servo lacking any shackles or stakes.

He still felt unusual in the mech’s frame but the spectre knew he didn’t have much time. Glancing to the side he found the book he’d brought with him laying on the floor not far away.

The fact that the winged mech hadn’t come in after he’d fallen told him that he was not home yet so quickly he got to work.

There was a bit of hesitation, as he knew the white mech might hate him when he found out, and he knew the other would find out.

At the same time, he didn’t care though. He didn’t want to be alone anymore.

\--

He waited on the couch with his legs crossed. The white mech usually came home around this time from what he remembered and the sound of the door opening behind him confirmed this. It was terrifying, what if he noticed right away?

He did not turn to greet the white mech when he spoke to him, nervous about how the other may interpret what he would soon discover. That and the fact that he hadn’t spoken in who knew how long meant he wasn’t sure he even remembered how to.

The spectre heard when the white mech came to an uncertain stop behind him before stepping around the couch to face him head-on.

He glanced up nervously. White optics met bright blue. The expression on the winged mech’s face was unreadable and had him on edge up until the point the white mech leant down to capture his lips in a kiss. It was new and frightening but enjoyable as the soft pressure sent chills down his spinal strut. He was sure his optics had brightened significantly at the contact. The kiss was brief but felt like an eternity of bliss to the spectre and he almost followed the white mech as he pulled away.

It worked and the white mech knew no difference. In the back of his processor he knew it was wrong but he couldn’t help himself. This frame, once the mech's lover, was now his. The other couldn’t kick him out of his frame anymore, not if he had done the ritual correctly and so far he could hear nothing but silence from the other’s personality core, as though he was just locked down into a permanent mental stasis.

“Feeling alright, Jazz?” the winged mech asked as he moved to sit beside him.

Jazz. That was his name now that he had this frame. He leant back to press into the other’s side, warmed at the other’s words, “I’m fine Prowl.”


	3. Revelation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place at least a month after the last chapter
> 
> Inspiration hit at work and a third part spawned. Much shorter than the other two, but opened it up for more chapters if the inspiration ever hits again.

Prowl watched from his peripheral as Jazz walked around their apartment, hesitant to go towards the windows where Cybertron's sun's light streamed through. He looked almost nervous as he peeked his helm around to stare out at the city even though he looked through them on countless other occasions. Prowl turned his helm fully to look at the silver mech. 

"Are you okay?" Prowl raised an optic ridge when the other jumped in place and whipped his helm around to meet his optics.

"Fine," Jazz's helm turned to look back out the window as he continued to murmur, "fine, fine..."

That seemed to be his favorite word as of late but Prowl said nothing of it. Instead a smile grew on his face as he approached the smaller and held him from behind. 

"Would you like to go out?" His question was met with the other perking his audial horns up in what Prowl hoped was excitement.

\-- 

Prowl hadn't realized how much going out would wipe the other out. He watched calmly as Jazz lay tucked close to his frame, almost like a youngling. Jazz had insisted on covering up completely, including his helm, and had thrown the blanket over Prowl too so they looked like a rather oddly shaped cocoon on the berth. Prowl let him do as he wished as he kept one arm draped around the lithe mech's shoulders. He smiled as Jazz burrowed closer, practically until he was under Prowl, but his smile fell as he continued to think.

Prowl knew that this "mech" only wore the frame of his lover and that he acted suspiciously like the little shadow in his mirror from his last apartment, which he'd belatedly remembered. This was the entity from the other apartment. He knew that the little shadow hadn't realized that Prowl knew. The little shadow then was like a youngling, now though, Prowl wasn't so sure. The other acted much like a youngling when greeted with new things but also had an eerie knowledge of how the world worked. Prowl had made a list of differences between his lover and the entity the more time they spent together, even giving it tests the shadow wouldn't know were tests. At the same time he felt he was taking advantage. 

Prowl had been rather distant from others and had never really met his lover's friends so felt no problem with continuing the charade even if it was wrong. He had no idea where his lover even was, whether he was sharing the body with the shadow or not. Did he have any control? Personally, Prowl liked the shadow more than his real lover. He'd realized his real lover had a one track processor the more he got to know him and that his idea of fun was more cruel than anything. Being a bouncer at a club didn't help considering the other liked to fight so much and took pleasure in busting helms. Not so great for Prowl since the ones fighting usually ended up in the Enforcer station trying to determine charges. 

Upon seeing and confirming the shadow's possession of his lover, Prowl had decided that it was time to move. It didn't take them long to pack up and go far enough that anyone who may have known his lover wouldn't find them. Giving him a new paint job was the second step. Jazz really liked the reflective surface of the silver paints, thus his new paint job. Jazz never asked about all of the changes, though he also didn't know about everything Prowl changed. Prowl had known right when he saw him that the other was not his lover. The kiss was a test to see how he'd react. It wasn't the right reaction he would have gotten from his lover. Besides, his real lover's name was Ricochet.

**Author's Note:**

> Youngling Spectre Jazz --> http://theparallelwall.tumblr.com/image/104103532006  
> Spectre Jazz--> http://theparallelwall.tumblr.com/image/104043072232


End file.
